Comfort Where you Least Expect
by Mathias Alexander Kirkland
Summary: DISCONTINUED UNTIL FURTHER NOTICE! America and Britain have yet another argument, but this is not like any previous one as things get taken to far. What happens when England appears at France's door unexpected? Will his friend take care of him and protect him from all his thoughts? Why is Britain acting the way his is and what is this important thing he wants to tell Francis?
1. Chapter 1

Comfort Where You Least Expect

The personification of France, otherwise known as Francois (Francis in English) Bonnefoy, was a tall attractive man with long, shoulder length blonde hair and startling blue eyes. Said nation ran a hand through his hair pulling out some of the tangles in the process as he sat on his sofa, a glass of wine held delicately in his right hand. Thunder shook the house as the French nation watched droplets race each other down the glass of his windows, it had been raining for the past few hours so far and did nothing to lift the mood of the Frenchman. Exhaustion making him ache and his brain tired; it came to the point where he believed that it was just his imagination; or his mind playing tricks on him that made the door bell sound. However, a few seconds later the sound echoed throughout the empty hall once again, checking the small clock that had been hung above the lit fireplace told France that it was midnight. _Who could be calling round at this hour... and in this weather too?_ Which is why it is not an understatement when I say that France was utterly flabbergasted when he swung the door open only to find himself face to face with his life long 'enemy', England.

Now the personification of England, also going by the name of Arthur Kirkland, was slightly shorter than our dear France and had short messy blonde hair, captivating Green eyes which were normally compared to emeralds and the most predominate eyebrows the world had ever seen. Normally the Englishman was wearing his signature scowl (or glare) but not today; oh no, today France noticed small tears escaping the man's eyes, a sad, distant expression now shaped his features. What shocked the French nation the most was the dead look in the man's now dull eyes, not a hint of their usual gleam. "Mon dieu! Angleterre, What are you doing here?" France looked up and down the frail man that stood in front of him, concern shining in his eyes as he checked for any injuries or glaring problems. England, however, refused to look up from the floor, gripping his hands so tightly in front of him that his knuckles had turned white. "I...I don't know." There was a slight pause as France stood there stunned both at the lack of insult and at just how broken the man sounded, he hadn't heard him sound like this since the revolution. After a few moments of deliberation, France opened the front door wider and stood to the side allowing for room for the younger nation to fit past him. "Well, why don't you come in out of the rain mon cher. I will find you some dry clothes to wear."

England stepped into the house, dripping water as he stood just inside the threshold, violently shaking. "Thank you France." Said nation took the younger's blazer and hung it up on the metal rack situated by the door and walked England to the sofa; as it seemed the broken nation was not making a move himself any time soon. "It is my pleasure, Angleterre. Now wait here and I will be right back" France made to move away from the sofa but found a slight force holding him back, upon looking down at his jumper he found that England had secured a solid grip. "Angleterre? Are you alright Mon ami?" France turned back around to face the other nation and bent down resting his knees on the ground as he tried to look into the others eyes.

England still refused to look at the older nation, "Don't leave me." with a small sigh and a smile playing on his lips France stood back up and gently pride the others hand from his clothes. "I will be right back mon cher. Do not worry, I promise I won't leave you." Before the English nation had chance to respond, France was off hurrying up the staircase. This, unfortunately left the British nation to his thoughts; memories of his Privateer days, his wars and the days of his empire; vivid images of his little America growing up, looking up to the British nation, aspiring to be as strong as him one day.

Then the revolution came, the day he was left all alone; the words echoed so clearly in his mind "you were so great." It wasn't said as a question, nor a judgement but as a hard, clear fact. Tears started to fall in a rapid succession, once again down his cheeks as Britain shakily placed his head in his hands as his body was ravished by sobs; sobs so loud and heart wrenching that he didn't hear the rapid footsteps growing closer to where he sat. "Mon Dieu, England! Are you alright?"

France threw the towel and clothes he had gathered for the Englishman down on the coffee table and without thinking, drew the other man into a tight embrace, not minding the water seeping through his own layers of clothing. The older nation rubbed soothing circles on the younger nations back, placing a soft delicate kiss to his forehead, as if not to break him any further. Though he gave a small start when he felt arms wrap around him in return; and a head nuzzle closer in his neck seemingly hiding from the outside world. Instead of stopping the embrace and his calming ministrations France simply drew back bringing one hand up to wipe a few tears from the Brit's cheeks. "It is okay Angleterre. Je suis mon cher."

As the younger of the two calmed down, France untangled himself and picked up the discarded towel, gently towel drying the other nation's hair. "Right Angleterre. I brought some of my pyjamas down for you to change into okay?" France still spoke as if one was speaking to a frightened animal, he was rewarded with a small nod in response, France stood up slowly and took the now wet towel in to the kitchen to be washed.

When he returned, England had already changed out of his suit and was seated back on the sofa, twiddling his thumbs. France chuckled as he looked over his 'friend', _He looks just like he did when he was just a little nation, oh how I miss those days. I just wish I knew what was wrong with him. He is such a delicate nation._ Making his way over to the sofa and sitting down next to England who, this time, graced France with a small smile and a quiet "thank you." Before he leant over resting his head against the other's shoulder; France was surprised not for the first time that night at the others strange behaviour but simply replied by wrapping an arm around the others shoulder. Rubbing his hand up and down the others arm hoping to open him up a bit.

"Oh Angleterre, will you tell me what is wrong? I worry about you sometimes." England looked down at the floor before turning his head burying it in the crook of France's neck, he took a deep breath as if to calm himself but really he was taking in the familiar scent of his French neighbour. "I got into another fight with America." France looked down at the British man next to him and placed yet another kiss on his forehead. Knowing that the fights they normally have never left the Englishman in such a state he knew something had went wrong this time and he wasn't going to like it one bit. "What was it about mon cherie?"

 **Know you are all wanting an explanation as well, as to why our little England is so upset for. Well I will go back to the ending of the G8 meeting. -Flashback-**

Well the meeting was held in France this time and nothing had gotten done, but that is not even surprising really now is it? Anyway, America had called out to the English nation to wait behind as he wanted to talk to him. After waiting patiently for all of the other nations to escape from the four walled prison they had been trapped in for the past few hours Britain turned to his ex-colony and glared "What the bloody hell do you want America?" The younger nation looked back at the Brit a huge smile plastered on his face, almost bouncing up and down with excitement. "I wanted to know if you would come to my party this year? I mean I could have sent you an invitation but you would just claim you didn't received one and end up not coming. So are you gonna come?"

England was disgusted with the question, I mean why on earth would he want to attend that bloody party, no he wasn't nearly as torn up about the revolution as everyone else thought but he still hated the idea, in fact he was very proud of each and every colony he used to own. "No, America. I will not attend your party. Why on earth should I?" As you can see, this started a perfectly good argument; pretty much as you would expect of this pair.

However, this time it was not like the other arguments and fights these two had, for one England was tired and grumpy. He had been anticipating something like this to happen sometime soon given the date and he was not in the slightest looking forward to when it would materialise. Oh no, it was not the same as all of the others because America ended up screaming at the older nation, screaming something that happened to affect the other dramatically

"I HATE YOU BRITAIN! I AM SO GLAD I GAINED MY INDEPENDENCE; YOU HAVE NO POWER OVER ME. FINE DON'T COME TO MY BIRTHDAY. ACTUALLY I NEVER WANT TO SEE YOU EVER AGAIN!"

This particular outburst brought burning tears to the Englishman's eyes but he refused to let them fall. Instead he glanced at the floor, counted to five and faced his ex-colony, green eyes portraying hurt and anger; not at America but at himself, for being such a horrible big brother to his colonies; not that he had any positive role-models to show him.

His shoulders slumped and an exhausted sigh escaped his mouth as a hand was scrapped through his untameable blonde hair. "I know America, I know..." His voice had never sounded so broken; at least never to the younger nation who had finally realised all he had said and tried to call out to the other nation as he slowly turned his back and walked out of the meeting room. No particular destination in mind.

England had walked around for a few hours, honestly he had lost track of time, it had been raining for quite a while but the depressed nation could not find it in him to get out of the warm June shower that had seeped through his three suit in a matter of minutes. However, after a particularly loud clap of thunder sounded _Why did the weather seem to perfectly reciprocate his feelings?_ His feet turned towards an unknown destination; well honestly England subconsciously knew where he was headed he just didn't want to admit that he always sort comfort from his life-long enemy.

 **-Back to Present-**

After France had heard the reason as to why his England was so upset, his own anger surged through him anger at the American nation for hurting his England so deeply; he noticed the huge black bags under his eyes and stood up. Not offering any snide comments or jokes about England's depressed state but simply lifting the small man up in his arms, bridal style mind you, and started to carry him up the stairs. England, though most would expect him to fight back or argue simply wrapped his arms around the Frenchman's neck and held on tight "Where are you taking me Frog?" France smiled at the return of his nickname and replied gently "To bed mon cher, you are exhausted and need to rest but don't worry I have a spare room for you if you would like." France looked down at the Brit to find him shaking his head; a light blush dusted his cheeks as he again spoke, this time much quieter than the last "Don't leave me alone Francis." He looked up at the man carrying him arms tightening around his neck before adding, as an after thought "Please?" The way it was said sounded as though it meant to be a question, France was again shocked (how many time does that make it now?) this time at the use of his human name, something reserved for intimate friendships or more. "Of course, Arthur. I would never leave you mon amour."

England again rested his head on the Frenchman's shoulder as he was carried into the bedroom of said nation before he was gently placed under the covers, a light feathered kiss placed on his temple before France walked to the other side of the bed and slipped under the covers. Turning off the lights he faced the other nation and was startled to find him looking right back, however, it appeared that the younger nation was already half asleep. That is until his small, almost vulnerable voice broke the silence "Thank you Francis, good night." France smile at the nation before brushing some of his hair away from his face, "goodnight Arthur, pleasant dreams." France, stiffened as England shifted under the covers tucking himself up under the chin of his friend curling up against his side giving a small smile before closing his eyes whispering something under his breath that made the Frenchman's heart skip a beat "I love you Francis." Then when France thought the Englishman was asleep, he wrapped his arms around the smaller nation drawing him closer to his figure before whispering almost as softly as the other had "Je T'aime mon amour. Je t'aime pour toujours mon amour, n'oubliez pas cela."

England smile slightly slipping into a deep sleep, wrapped tightly in the arms of the man he loved.


	2. Chapter 2

England woke up the next day feeling happier than he had the day before; the sun was streaming through the windows spreading a soft yellow glow around the room he found himself in. At first he couldn't remember where he was or how he had managed to get where he currently was, however, the harder he thought the clearer it became. The argument with America came flooding back and his once happy mood dissipated into nothing. He also found the room all to familiar, the fashionable decor could only mean one thing. He was at the Frenchman's house. Upon also remembering the words exchanged between both nations the previous night; the island nation looked over to his right and frowned. France was gone, he had left him alone after promising not to, this for one reason or another sent tears to his eyes as he slowly sat up in the bed.

Standing up on wobbly legs he walked over to the door and slowly began to make his way down the stairs; as he descended down he heard the clatter of pans and different cooking utensils being used from the kitchen. Wiping the remaining tears from his face England walked as quietly as he could towards the noise, stopping just shy of the doorway where he saw France rushing around the counter adding ingredients here and there. After a few mintues of watching the Frenchman flit around the kitchen causing a small smile to flash across the British nation's face before he replaced it with a frown and cleared his throat making the French nation jump, just so, he turned around and smiled at the still sleepy looking nation in the doorway.

"Good morning mon ami, did you sleep well?" England's frown deepened _did he not remember their conversation last night?_ and made his way into the kitchen sitting down at the table, a steaming cup of tea was placed in front of him and a feathery kiss pressed to his forehead making his cheeks burn. Opting to look into the liquid instead of France's eyes, England nodded his head "Yes it was quite pleasant." He shot a subtle glance at the older man before mumbling under his breath, just loud enough for the other to hear "But I didn't like waking up alone, git." France smiled at the younger nation and wrapped an arm around his shoulder placing a soft kiss on his cheek before releasing a soft chuckle "I am sorry Mon amour but I wanted to make breakfast seen as we have another meeting today." England grew pale at this news, he had completely forgotten about that. _Damn, I don't want to face America just yet._

France sensing his friends distress tightened his grip on the others shoulder, leaning closer, with one hand resting on the table ensuring that he kept his balance, so as to whisper into his ear "Don't worry mon cher. I will keep that horrible Amerique away from you. Oui?" England shuddered at the feeling of France's hot breath on his ear and leant into the embrace taking a sip from his tea before placing the beverage on the table and turning around to face France; he placed a quick kiss to the Frenchman's cheek "Thank you Love." France smiled brighter, his eyes shining with affection. Releasing Britain from his grip he turned around and grabbed two plates of food, setting one down in front of the Brit before walking to the opposite side and sitting down himself. "Bonne appetite mon amour. We will need to be getting dressed in a minute." England placed a forkful of food into his mouth, eyes widening at the flavouring that exploded across his taste buds before a thought dawned on him. "Ah! Ummmmm... Francis?" The Brit took another mouthful as he looked up at the French man across from him, his eyebrow raised in curiosity "Oui? What is it Arthur?"

A blush spread across the island nations face at the way his name sounded coming from the Frenchman's mouth "I uhh... Don't have any other clothes with me." France chuckled at how adorable the Brit looked when he got embarrassed taking a mouthful of food before answering "Don't worry mon cher. I do believe I have some of your clothes here from the last time you spent the night. I will retrieve them for you after breakfast." With a silent nod from England they both went back to eating their breakfast.

The rest of the meal went well; neither spoke as they quickly ate the food and washed up their plates before both heading up the stairs. England walked into his room (he spends so much time in the Frenchman's house that the room was reserved just for him.) watching as his friend picked out some clothes for him to wear that day. Now, normally the British man hated people choosing his clothes but by what he saw, France was picking out items that would both suit the younger nation but also an outfit that would fit the others taste. Looking over the items that had been chosen, Britain found a pair of brown suit trousers a white button up shirt and a green sweater vest, smiling at the clothes before turning to watch his friend leave to get some clothes of his own.

-Time Skip-

Half an hour later and Britain was leaning against the wall of the hallway, waiting for France to finish preening. Well in Britain's eyes the Frenchman looked beautiful even without all of the preparation but it was also worth the wait because _Damn did the frog look attractive in his suit._ Britain was so lost in this thoughts that he didn't notice the object of such thoughts had walked down the stairs and was standing in front of the dazed nation.

France leant over and placed a soft kiss on the other's head before taking hold of his hand and dragging him out of the house towards his car "Time to go mon cher." Britain was surprised to be shaken out of his thoughts in such a manner but he didn't protest as the Frenchman dragged him down the drive.

"Hey Francis, you promise to stay with me right?" England had seated himself in the passenger seat and watched France push the keys into the ignition, as he slowly reversed out of the drive he took hold of one of the Brit's hands brushing loving circles over his knuckles "Of course mon amour. I would never leave you." Britain squeezed the Frenchman's hand and leant back in the car staring at the scenery as it blurred past. "Thank you love."

It was a short trip to the meeting hall, one that was spent in relative silence not that it bothered the two occupants of the car. When they arrived they stepped out and walked up to the room; which just happened to be situated at the top of the building (7 stories high). They didn't touch or talk much as they made their way through the building more out of nervousness than anything else.

They finally made it to the conference room and opened the door slowly, Britain walking in first closely followed by France; they each took their respective seats, a bit disappointed as they were sat opposite each other and not next to each other like usual. None of them noticing the glances of confusion sent their way from the other nations present at their arrival together.

"Hahahahahahahaha" A familiar laugh broke over the room, making England visibly stiffen, his worry filled gaze landed on France who gave his a reassuring smile before turning to stare at the American. America sadly noticed the two nations and walked over to them "Hey dudes, I decided to put you two away from each other. We can't have another fight breaking out during the meeting this time now can we?" With that he stalked off once again leaving both nations shocked and slightly angered; both of them noticing the lingering glare sent towards the Frenchnation before his departure.

However, before any of them could do anything about it, Germany called the meeting to order and seen as France was the host country he was first to speak. Still annoyed at the American's comment he made a point to face Britain at the end of his speech about climate change and ask him a question "So Britain, what do you think we should do on the matter?" England smirked as he saw France flick his gaze over to the obnoxious country, who was obviously not paying attention.

"Well France I believe that if America cut down on his emissions then we wouldn't even have to worry much. He is the world's largest emitter and should be capped. I mean he calls himself the Hero but all he is doing at the moment is not saving anyone but speeding up the rate of climate change; if you ask me that is NOT what a hero does." Though England tried to speak with as much confidence as possible he feared what the younger nation would try to do in order to defend his country.

As soon as he heard the other nation speak his name, the American turned his full attention on his old caretaker, shocked over what he was hearing. I mean for one France and England were being very civilised with each other and he said that he wasn't a hero.

The young country jumped up from his chair, marching over to the older nation and before anyone could comprehend what was happening slapped the Brit across the face and grabbed him round the throat pulling him out of his chair.

All nations in the room were stunned at the sudden change in attitude of the American, most of them had notcied the uncertain glances that Britain had been shooting the younger nation and the glares sent his way by France. They had all figured out that the conversation between America and England after yesterday's meeting had NOT gone well. They were scared at what had happened to America as he has never acted this way towards anyone before.

However, despite the rough treatment and the fact that his throat was gasping for air Britain did not fight back, nor did he struggle, even when warm tears flowed down his pale cheeks. "You have no fucking right to say any of those things about me! You pathetic excuse of a nation! Don't you even think for a moment that I won't squeeze the life out of you right here, right now! I am the Hero but obviously you wouldn't understand that seen as all you do is make everyone hate and leave you!"

Again Britain just took the abuse; France however and half of the other countries in the room, finally breaking out of their stupor, raced over trying to pull the younger nation off of him.

America released his grip when he recieved an especially hard punch to the stomach from Germany, and Britain collapsed to the floor. Germany was the first one to his side but he flinched away, cowering under the table; knees drawn to his chest and head down.

What most people didn't know about the British nation was that he suffered from chronic depression, so although he seemed to take the abuse and insults well from others they affected him deeply. A few more countries tried to coax the broken nation out from under the table but he refused to listen, shaking his head violently and shivering in fear. Worry etched its way into the hearts of every nation as most had never seen the English nation in such a state. America finally realising the state he had reduced the other country to, tried to kneel next to Britain but was pushed out of the way by a very angry looking France. "Don't you dare touch him, you did this to him. Last night too, he came to my house completely broken and terrified. He has been through more than you ever will! So don't you fucking DARE TOUCH HIM AGAIN!" France was breathing hard as he glared at the young nation; who at least had the brains to look apologetic before returning his own glare.

France was one of the only nations to know of the Englishman's 'episodes' if that is the correct term for them, for he had been the one to console the Brit after the American Revolution and both of the World Wars just to name a few times.

He was pulled from his trance by a quiet voice "Francis?" Said nation turned around and knelt near to the younger nation; his heart breaking at the tears flowing down his cheeks once again, a glazed look dulled his emerald eyes. "Oui, Je suis mon amour. Je suis toujours." He wrapped England in a tight embrace which he leant into, hiding his face in the Frenchman's neck; this surprised all of the other nations as England didn't flinch or shy away from the French nations touch.

After calming the nation down enough to be able to help the English nation out from under the table France looked to Germany "I think we should call a short break." France still wrapping his arms around the smaller nation spoke softly lightly drawing soothing patterns up England's arm. Germany begrudgingly agrees "Fine, you have 15 minutes."

England sat down in his seat, with the help of Francis, vacantly looking out the window at the bright blue sky filled with an assortment of birds, the sun looking too bright and the blue sky looking dull in his current state. France bent down to his eye level, placing his hands gently on his knees "I will go and fetch you a cup of tea mon amour. I will be back shortly." He placed a kiss to the green-eyed nations knuckles and hurried off to the cafeteria; not noticing that a certain blonde haired nation was still in the room.

As soon as the French nation left, America walked over to the Brit, grabbing a fist full of his hair and forcing him to look at him, all other countries had escaped to the halls as soon as a break was called so Britain and America were left alone. "So what? Now you think that French Perv is going to save you? He will leave you within a few weeks; he will get bored of you soon enough and then where will you be? You are a pathetic excuse for a nation." His voice laced with venom.

With that America walked out of the meeting room and made his way to the café, walking past France in the process, he sent a smirk his way before carrying on his way his charicteristic smile appearing on his face once again. The latter immediately got anxious as he noticed the American walking out of the conference room, so without spilling the tea he was carrying he hurried to wards the room.

Sighing as he saw his little Brit looking so lost, so vulnerable, walking slowly over to the other nation, France placed the tea on the table and once again knelt in front of the Brit placing his hands on the others knees. England looked down at France and gave a half hearted smile, threading his shaking hands in his soft, shoulder-length hair as his eyes shone with unshed tears.

"Do not listen to a word he said mon amour, you are loved and you are needed; you are one of the strongest nations I have ever know. He owes his entire existence to you mon cher and no one can tell you otherwise. I mean you managed to raise so many colonies all on your own; you were the most feared pirate of the seven seas and even handed my ass to me on a silver platter on more than one occasion. You are loved by so many mon amour."

France's expression at this moment made England's breath catch in his throat; never had he seen an expression filled with so much warmth, so much love and adoration, he couldn't help but smile back and this time it made his eyes twinkle.

"Thanks love." England bent down and hugged the French nation before whispering in his ear almost too quiet for said nation to hear "I love you, Francis." France couldn't hide his giggle as he wrapped his arms around his love interest of a few centuries, excited that his feelings were returned "Je T'aime aussi mon amour."

France placed a quick kiss to the corner of the Brits mouth before standing up from his place on the floor and pulled the other up with him. Holding their hands in between them as he threaded his fingers with England's. "I am not sure if this is the right time or place to ask... but... well... ummm well you see..I...oh shit... Will you go out with me Arthur?"

A bright blush covered the Frenchman's face and England chuckled at the nervousness but answered "I would be honoured Francis, if you would have me." It was England's turn to blush this time as he wrapped his arms around his now boyfriends neck; he was rewarded by strong warm arms wrapping around his waist in response "Of course mon amour, I wouldn't have it any other way."

Just at that moment nations started to file back into the room so England and France untangled themselves before anyone noticed and walked to their separate seats.

After a few more seconds Britain spotted America walking into the room, sending a smirk over to the Brit who without saying a word slowly got up from his seat and walked over to his boyfriend; making sure to stand directly next to his chair. His hands played with the material of his shirt as he shifted nervously from foot to foot under the scrutinising stares of the other nations at his actions.

France looked up at the looming figure over his chair pushing his chair back slightly as he turned towards the younger nation. "Mon amour, are you okay?" A small shake of his head was all he got in reply, looking around the room he spotted the American nation shooting dagger, so to speak, at the small British nation next to him.

Smiling slightly he took hold of his boyfriends hand and pulled him gently onto his lap; he wrapped his arms around the Brit as he felt the others head nuzzle into his neck. Bringing one hand up he slowly stroked the younger nations hair and glanced up to see the shocked face of America staring straight at them, he smirked and stuck his tongue out, childish but amusing.

No other country made any move to comment on the strange behaviour of the two rival nations but seen as France was the one to lead England out from under that table and get him to calm down, they all left it alone.

Germany decided that now was a good of a time as any to restart the meeting "Okay, so the meeting is continuing now so everyone shut up. Alright the next speaker is...England." Germany looked unsure and glanced over at the nation still hiding in the arms of his French neighbour.

France leant forward whispering in the younger nations ear who shook his head slightly refusing to remove himself from his safe haven; apparently saying something as France chuckled softly at the actions. He pulled back slowly glancing over at Germany before shaking his head at the blonde. With a small smile the German man read over the list once again. "Alright up next is Italy." Said nation jumped out of his seat and proceeded to explain how his plan was to serve mass amounts of pasta in order to combat climate change.

The meeting continued as normal; except there was not fighting to be heard as both France and England were supposedly listening to the other speakers and America was ignored, as he was refused his usual chance to share his speech much to his annoyance.

When the meeting was finally closed after many hours, France tried to stand the British nation up but smiled lovingly when he noticed that he had fallen asleep; _probably tired himself out from stressing and crying, my midgon amour_.

Picking up the sleeping nation, France made his way towards his car, placing the Brit into the passenger seat and strapping him in before heading home.

What he didn't notice was that America was stood in the buildings entrance watching them drive away. An unusual smirk plastered across his face, one that almost had an evil air about it.


	3. Chapter 3

"I can't believe Britain went to that Frog for comfort; I mean seriously. We have had worse arguments then that before I don't see how this one is any different." America was currently pacing up and down in his hotel room after he had watched in disdain as France carried England out of the conference building. I think it is safe to say that America had harboured a slight crush towards the Island nation since before his revolution and could in fact become very jealous in deed. America could become wrapped up in his hatred towards anyone he deemed a threat to his relationship with England that he reminds me a bit of Russia... and not in the cutesy way either. America could become violent and terrifying bring harm to anyone who stood in his way; at this moment in time that person was France which evidently did not bode well with the younger nation. "I need a way to make Britain mine." America had been pacing now for just over two hours when suddenly a metaphorical light bulb lit up within his mind "Aha! Perfect. Now all I need to do is get Britain away from that French Bastard." And the superpower knew exactly how to do that; reaching for his phone America dialled the number of the only other nation he was sure would be more than happy to help him to carry out his plans. The phone rang four times before a click could be heard and a delicate yet mischievous voice sounded, "Da, Russia speaking." America smirked and proceed.

"Hey Russia, I was wondering if you could help me out dude."

"Ah America, it is unusual for you to call me da? What can I do to help?"

"Well, I need for you to distract France tomorrow for me. I need to 'discuss' a few things with Britain and I do not need him getting in my way." Russia could here the anger that was threading through his once rivals voice but thought nothing of it, _Ah, America is asking me to help. It is good to help friends; having friends is nice da?_

"Of course I will help you America. I will keep France busy, will he be at his home?"

"Yea, it is Saturday tomorrow and Britain normally goes out to the shops; I will catch him then." And with that America quickly hung up the phone and walked into the kitchen making himself a cup of coffee before making his way over to the sofa. Leaning back he switched on the Television and settled back as he decided on watching one of his favourite Marvel movies 'Avengers'. His mind wondering over his carefully thought out plan to make England his once and for all; his face had twisted into an evil smirk at the implication of what was to come.

 **Hey Guys I just wanted to take this opportunity to warn people that the next part of this chapter involves violence, and scene not for the faint of heart. If you are easily offended or are not comfortable with forced sexual intercourse then I urge you to click of this story now; you have been warned.**

-The Next Day-

America had set his alarm for 8 o'clock because he knew that Britain always left for the shops in the early hours of the morning and America wanted to make sure that he was in place before he missed his opportunity. Quickly getting dressed in his usual jeans and hoodie, he brushed his hair and teeth before quickly leaving his house; he didn't have time for breakfast. As he made his way down the almost deserted French streets he sent a quick text to Russia making sure that the larger nation was one his way to the French nations house. _Da, I am walking up his street._ A smirk appeared on America's face as he ducked into an entryway in between two modern French buildings; he leant casually against the wall and proceeded to wait.

-To England-

England had woken up early today and even though France had pleaded with him on several occasions while the Brit fussed over getting ready; he still decided to walk to the shops on his own, Britain had always enjoyed solitude and even though him and France were now dating he still enjoyed going for a walk in the early morning in solitude. He had plenty of time to think about passed events and if the need be, to sort out his conflicting thoughts; at this moment in time he was doing just that. _Oh bloody hell, what has been up with America lately. I never knew he hated me that much, was I such a bad big brother. I mean I had never been around much but that was because I had my other colonies to deal with and he knew he was my favourite, I had told him that and even spent more time with him then any of my other colonies._ England was still deep in his own thoughts as he rounded a corner into a deserted street; if the man was paying attention maybe he would have heard the shuffle of feet behind him; maybe he would have been able to run, to escape the now dismal fate that seemed to have befallen upon him. As he rounded that corner; his world had pretty much fallen around him, an arm held his midsection as a free hand came around and roughly shoved a handkerchief over his mouth and nose. England immediately started to panic but the liquid on the cloth made his mind fuzzy, his sight blurred and his muscles weak. He collapsed against his capturer but before he fell completely unconscious a small noise had escaped his mouth one much to the displeasure of said capture "Francis." The dark figure pick up the now unconscious man into his arms and carried him to an old abandoned warehouse just on the outskirts of the town; there were not really any houses around and luckily no cameras to spot the man as he carried out his plan.

-To France-

England had woken up early today and even though France had pleaded for him to stay at home with him; mainly out of concern for the Brits health. He had been through a lot in the past few days and France worried that something major was going to happen, this only increased while he was sitting down on his sofa, his thoughts wondering over to his boyfriend who had left just 10 minutes previous. The French nation was brought out of his thoughts by the sound of soft knocking on his front door; curious as to who on earth would be knocking at his door at 9 o'clock in the morning. Sighing France got up from his place on the sofa and slowly made his way to the door; he opened it and it is not an understatement when he was shocked to the point of almost freezing into a petrified statue. He quickly composed himself and opened the door wider; meeting an innocent looking Russia standing patiently on his doorstep looking all too suspicious. "Ah Russia, mon ami. What are you doing here?" Said nation smiled wider and looked behind him before leaning closer to the French nation "I am helping out a friend da?" Confusion spread across France's face as he looked for any deeper meaning to the Russians words but finding none he stepped to the side opening up the door even wider allowing for his ally to step over the threshold of his house. "Ah well I guess you had better come in. Would you like for me to make you a cup of tea?" France led Russia into the front room where the latter sat down making himself comfortable, "Ah Yes please, Where is England? He is staying with you da?" A chuckle escaped the French mans lips as Russia looked around the room like a small child, as he made his way towards the kitchen. "Oui, Angleterre just went out to the shops a few minutes ago. He should be back soon though." Filling the kettle and flicking it on, France waited for the water to boil before pouring the water into a cup and walking back into the front room. Russia thanked him, which caught him off guard slightly but returned the small smile. "Why don't you wait here until he returns. I have been meaning to ask you something mon ami. I am afraid to say that I need your help with something." Stealing a glance at the French nation Russia suddenly felt guilt rising up in his chest; he didn't like the feeling and wanted it to go away as fast as possible. He took a sip of tea and smirk, Camomile, a tea to sooth and calm; Russia liked to help out his friends but sometimes it would get him in to trouble, as it was going to do today. "England might be slightly late today, America wanted to talk to him." Russia was looking down into the liquid in his cup as he spoke to his host but was quickly shaken out of his thoughts by the sound of porcelain shattering on the floor; France had a look of pure horror on his face as he slowly processed the information, slowly bringing his gaze up to the Russian "What do you know Russia? Why would you let him do that, you saw how he affected him yesterday. I cannot believe you didn't tell m..." France froze suddenly, his mouth open as a few tears escaped his eyes, his gaze turned to fright as he stared at Russia who had an expression of shock on his face at the outburst. His lower lip trembled as he stuttered an apology to his ally "F...France I am s...sorry. I didn't thing A...America wou..would do anything bad. I want..ed to help out a f...friend..." At seeing and hearing the distress in the larger nations voice and face; France's expression softened as he truly believe that the Russian was in dead sorry for what his misunderstanding. France placed a hand on the Russians shoulder "Never mind that mon ami but can you told me everything that you know. I want you to help me find Angleterre." Russia nodded and smiled slightly; a warm feeling settling as France referred to him as his friend, something he did rarely, he began to explain America's plan, well what he knew of it anyway.

-England-

England woke up in a dark space; his muscles ached and felt heavy, his vision was still slightly blurred and his memory was hazy. _How on earth did I get here?_ Looking around the room he was in Britain found that he had no idea where he was or who brought him there but when he tried to get up from the...bed? _What on earth is a bed doing in this dismal place?_ He soon realised that his arms had been tied to the headrest above his head and that all of his clothes had been removed; he suddenly had a very bad feeling about this. Struggling with the binds on his wrists England failed to notice a figure standing up from his seat in the shadows until he had walked up and stood next to the bed, his motions freezing as the figure stepped into the light, a smirk shaping his features. "A...America?" England thrashed around even more, ignoring the pain as the ropes dug into his wrists the feeling of blood running down his forearms as he tried to get away from his little brother. "What the hell are you doing you git. Let me go." America slowly shook his head a sad smile appearing on his face as he climbed onto the bed and positioned himself over the still struggling Brit, "You don't get to tell me what to do England. You are MINE and mine alone. I will NOT let that French bastard steal you from me!" With that America forcefully grabbed a fistful of blond hair before crashing his lips against England's, roughly forcing his tongue into Britain's mouth. The latter proceed to struggle even harder as his eyes widened in shock and dread spread throughout his body at this violation; he tried to kick the younger nation off of him but his legs had been trapped by his knees pinning him to the bed. After a few seconds longer America pulled back panting slightly; he looked down at the Brit and his smirk returned "Not so tough now are you? What happened to this great British Empire I heard all about?" England shock in fear as America leered at him, his mind went blank and he ceased in his struggling only to have America lean down once again, this time aiming for his neck; he sucked and bit at the different parts of Britain's neck as the latter once again tried to struggle against the others grip. "A..America St..op...Please. I don't want this... Let me go." Britain finally unable to hold back his terror any longer let the tear fall creating tracks down his face; however he winced in pain as a loud crack resounded around the warehouse, America gently caressed the cheek he had slapped before placing a gentle kiss to the now red area. His voice did not match his actions "You are mine and will do what I say. No one is going to save you Britain." Dripping with venom and reminding England of a demon he had once accidentally summoned from the underworld. A shiver of fear travelled down his spine as America released his grip from the older nations hair and continued his work; he trailed rough impatient kisses down Britain's chest, who still tried a futile attempt to escape the younger nation before he could go any further, sadly this did not work and America had sat up. He spread England's legs apart almost painfully so positioning himself at the others entrance; panic rose at the prospect of what exactly was happening to him as America shove inside him in one excruciatingly painful thrust. A loud scream of pain left the Brit's mouth and America laughed at his old caretakers pain before pulling almost completely out and slamming back in, the process was painful for Britain who cried several times for the American to stop, to let him go but his pleas fell on deaf ears. The Younger nation released inside of the traumatised nation before pulling out; he reached his hand up in order to stroke the others cheek but stopped short when he noticed the dull look in his eyes; the lack of response save for the fact of how he flinched away from his ex-charge. America stood without another word and walked away, leaving Britain mentally broken and physically violated; he cried silently to himself as soon as he was sure that America had left him alone, his arms ached but he was still bond to the bed. His mind wondered and an image of France appeared in his mind, this only made Britain cry harder; _France must be so worried about him._ "France... Please... Save me.. Help me love. I am scared. I don't know what to do." America stood just outside the door before ducking his head and walking away, he made his way towards his hotel room planning to return in the evening to claim once again what was rightfully his.

A/N

Sorry for the abrupt ending to this chapter but I felt that if I left it at this then it would encourage me to get the next chapter up much faster and hopefully give me a basis of what to write, I am sorry if America seems OOC but I had a thought that America is a very jealous nation and because of this would act before thinking which would result in him doing something like this. But because of how he is oblivious and childish he doesn't seem to realise that what he is doing is wrong.

I hope you enjoy the chapter and I am sorry for the Angst but it just came to me suddenly and I just had to write about it, I hope you can forgive me. The next chapter should be slightly better with less sad parts in it. Please comment what you thought


End file.
